"executing" poems
Discoboli of African poetry has now sparked above aphasia
The aphasic silence today breaks eardrums with cacophony
Of the world audience in the by standing duty of workshop tubes,
Executing poetic experiment on the origin of **** poeticus
To link the archaic baboonish proteins to the black chimpanzee
Cradling African man, the sire of all and their poetry.
That when the Chimpanzee blood we poured
Into the African veins of vena cava and aorta,
Feeding the heart with viscosity of nutrition,
And the Chimpanzee blood fell into deadly
Tomperousness like Shakespearean impetuosity
Once seen in Romeo and Juliet, giving timely Birth
To untimely half the yellow Sun
That juxtaposed planet of poetry
Behind the star of tribe as a priority
Condemning to stark oblivion all the fated,
in full uniform of tribal dimunitions, or mimesis.
Ever predated on when tribes form nations.
A time to try the chimpanzee blood in the veins
Of white humanity, battling cynosure
Historically evinced in Antony and his father,
Or Tybalt and Mercurial of mercutio,
Or Macbeth and counterparts
Or Hamlet the Danish and the inheritors of his mother,
As the white blood cells of the white blood,
Militantly attack the white corpuscles
Of the misfortunate chimpanzee,
Converting the later into
A chewer of misfortune.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
Match, match forward and go, you heroic sons of America
Reconnoiter into the strongholds of boko haram,
And restore our captive girls from the foul custody,
Lawlessly held hostage by the connoisseurs of terror,
Go on and recover poor souls from ribald of religion
Impishly created by Moslem from the satanic verses,
Regulating foray of terror on the poor of the poor
****** mahyeming, looting and executing massacres,
Match on and on yee angels of democracy,
Don’t stop in any haste or in any wonder,
To help in the sham flabbergastations,
About the Igbos who fought the Biafra,
And the Yorubas who federally defended,
Under the aegis of Obasanjo the Sandhurst
General, where are they all to save the girls
Of Nigeria from the Islamist terror
Excuted by boko haram the handmaid of evil.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Some wise men have said,
That the universe
Is made of strings, tiny,
Which vibrate in dimensions ten.
Six extra dimensions than
The usual three of space
And the fourth, which is assessed
Using a pendulum
Oscillating in nothingness.
Strings, like the ones of a guitar,
Playing different notes
And different symphonies
Bosons, fermions, electrons
And gravitons to name a few.
This annuls racism among sub-atomics
Since ultimately they're all threads.
Or do you think, a boson
Is superior to a fermion
'cause it swings in a different plane
Or because one of them is called
The God Particle?
Strings, oscillating like
The alternation of seasons
Strings, like the thread of relationship
Which stretches and swings
Between its highs and lows
Strings, oscillating like
The advancing and receding waves
All we could be is a painting,
A hologram, simple 3D information
On a two dimensional plane
Living our lives and executing functions
As the painter intended us to.
All we are, are threads
Arranged in a particular fashion
All we are is a bunch of strings!
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
**Felt the pretense behind closed eyes,
composed vibrations of rhetoric
freelancing in executing ignis fatuus
drank the kool-aid of your own grandeur
a punch drunk conviction's onus
in false pretenses of a mislead head trip
a study in contradiction's convulsions
simmered of half past lucid judgement,
junctures of reality submersed
in cloudy formations
impervious to reasoning**
...a saga written upon piqued skies of indifference
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC
"It's a universal urge to pair up." They say.
It's 3 words and
Suddenly files are executing
Auto-running and auto-installing.
When you've been alone,
It's like
Every rancid dream inside of you is
Awakened. Hyper aware & readied
Preprogrammed bugs start to run.
Users in remote locations
Triggered by tracking cookies
Wheel- in backdoor worms
And all I have to do is click
I/O corrupted
Cloudy decisions, decisions
Ads for free cars, free girlfriends
Glittering pop-ups.
"Hot guys in your area!"
But **** is for the lonely
Bait;
A smiling **** Madonna
accompanied by
Beguiling hooks, fly-paper,
You-name-it
Can't tell if I'm in love or in lure.
But I have to go for it.
And that's the point.
"I love you"
[Click]
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 12:37 AM UTC
i
there does seem to be a lot of nosey parkers
things can rapidly become darker
a momentum of their own
soon,again,be traipsing across broad
fields of fresh bone..intellectuals are
usually the first to go the written word
suspect decadent art the smooth hand
and on till we are all looking over our
collective shoulder..work worshipped
lord what we believe in the name of
collective security and a bigger better
future..!?
ii
the goldfish in our park pond however
seem very happy together
they patiently wait their turn
and take a small bite as required..
they know they are many small smaller
all the various colours and the big ones
but there is the sun and there is suffice
they will circle love and say ola..
*
inspired by executing society
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 7:17 AM UTC
The slithering of her silver dialect
Wraps around my limbs
Tasting and devouring hungrily
On my tattered skin
Black bedroom eyes
Rated ***
Dissect me bit by bit
And piece by piece
A Picasso jigsaw puzzle
Scattered on the coffee table
I hear the screaming of spring
Executing the closing space between us
Our thoughtless embrace
Breaking in the aftermath of blood drenched butchering
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 11:04 AM UTC
I have long sought quiet.
And please, let me be clear: quiet.
Not the quietus Hamlet desired,
No “consummation devoutly to be wished” for me.
No, with or without a bare bayonet,
UNBEINGNESS is hardly what I seek.
It is not the predicament of death,
But the quiet spectacle of the grave I envy.
Originally a city mouse,
I am familiar with the urban soundscape.
I know city noise, amped up in decibels.
Noise-induced stress, shrill and enervating,
Add to the mix a working-class neighborhood,
Where someone is always hammering,
Using a power tool of some kind,
Repairing, improving an older, somewhat decrepit home;
But a steal as the realtors say.
Or vehicles, like Old Havana relics,
Held together by secular prayer,
And thriving underground Cuban capitalism.
Then just for fun: *"Let’s send the son of a ***** to war."*
Tympanic membranes be wary and be ******
Stretched and perforated,
Compressed and torn,
Shredded like wheat.
Pummeled by shock wave.
I was Lear wandering the heath,
Your ass-cheeks cracked:
*“Cataracts and hurricanes . . .
Oak-cleaving thunderbolts . . .
Sulphurour and thought-executing fires . . .
Singe my white head!”*
Cue Cabaret music (Cabaret (1972) - IMDb www.imdb.com/title/tt0068327): “Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome . . . to Indochine,”
First a Weimar-Saigon suckee-fuckee,
Then out to *The ****
Mind-numbing concussion,
Reek of jellied gasoline,
Charred meat,
Assorted red entrails,
Obliteration of thought complete.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
I want a mouthful
of truth
without you sugar coating
every word
but those lies that lie
behind your pearly whites
only goes to show
you can't ever tell the truth.
So, I'll keep my mouth shut
bite my tongue so hard
My lips touch
like a kiss from you
Never open, only
Blowing our love out of proportion
because I can't give
my heart to you
with no proof,
just changing gears
and shifty eyes.
You whisper, "Honey,"
But that's your disguise
Executing every syllable and consonant
Like a devout man
but baby you're not heaven sent.
So, pull me close
until you start to fall apart
and to be honest I can't wait
to hear you talk your way
Out of this one
but I'll be sweet enough
to watch you rot
From too many
candy covered lies.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:13 PM UTC
Offence has no real validity,
Yet it is used to justify the taking of lives
Is there one, that the world does not offend
If so that person has not lived or felt,
Warlords, rapists, racists, murderers and those who are cancers on society walk among us daily
Those who profess to know the will of god and act on his behalf,
Perceiving and executing unhelpful dogma that infects our reality
The words respect and correctness have become harbingers for cowards,
As our muteness silently strips us of our freedom,
Apologies are offered gift wrapped in fear
Sticks and stones still break our bones but pictures and words now **** us**
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
I can hear the dryness of the tobacco burn
Thousands of chemicals burning for my desire
I can feel the burn of the nicotine gushing into my lungs.
Thousands of chemicals leaving traces throughout my organs
I can smell the bitterness of the smoke exhaling into the air.
Thousands of chemicals surrounding me
I can sense the damage being done to my body
Thousands of chemicals killing me
I can see the dangerous chemicals of the smoke filling the air
Thousands of chemicals polluting the space
I can feel the cravings executing my need.
Thousands of chemicals made to fix me
-------
I can hear the pulse in my head
Throbbing in the frontal lobe of my brain
I can feel the blood fighting the nicotine
Steadily rushing at an unsteady pace throughout my veins
I can smell the evidence on my skin
Reminding me of the chemical I am letting ruin my body
I can sense my rapid heart beat
Pumping my blood faster and faster until the foreign invader leaves
I can see the regret surfacing the space I currently am occupying
Making this one my last
I can feel the effect of my decision invading my body
My chemically invaded body
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
I do not judge you,
for who you are,
or what you do,
for I am not the judge nor the jury,
I am merely the executioner.
Whom everyone knows holds a bit of fury,
although as I look upon your face,
and see the facade melting off it,
your guilt shows your disgrace,
and as my heart judges your actions,
and my soul decides upon your fate,
it is my mind that must do the transactions,
and executing isn't its best trait.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
startup…
logon… password “Hello Friend”
K: Windows/system32> whoami
Description= reminder to update system
Exec start= bash(repeatedly) sleep-10; notify send “This Is Gonna Hurt”
K: Memories/ cd
Couldn’t load library “K: Memories/Hopeful/GoodTimes/v1997/launcher”
no such file or library
Invoked from within
Library path could not be found while executing
newtype.sendkeys {DELETE}
integrity check has failed
package requires ansinfo
(package ifneeded script)
def listen= {dummy}
ip config_release
User interface "you’re_not_losing_your_mind!” not found
NOT ENOUGH PARAMETERS OR PARAMETER ERROR!
User daemon reload - update script
Are you sure you want to delete? Y/N
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 7:47 PM UTC
last one
lit and burnt
slowly
savory
and the whole time
I think about you
and the very first time
I admired you
from across the yard
while I hung upside down
and the smoke sauntered from your lips
as brilliant as
a ballerina perfectly executing
all of Swan Lake
in fifteen seconds
and so mine comes to an end
while the smoke dances clumsily from my lips
the geese waddle from land to pond
and I wonder what it is
that’s got you so entranced in me.
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 11:00 PM UTC
Horripilation
A quickly pacing heart
Mind orbiting the concept
In circles, a work of abstract art
There is difficulty in executing movement
When all these things appear
Over my shoulder, edge of eyesight
Whispers in my ear
Rip out the claws that hold me in my seat
To walk over and say "Hello"
There would be no greater feat
That day
And then
I feel
That the lonliness would die
When
I
Fall into your eyes
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC
Another volcano erupts
Masked as a mass shooting
Thousand Oaks is disrupts
By a gunman executing
Twelve innocent lives taken
Bloodshed rocked the mountain
Tremors of tears are foresaken
As the sadness mounts in
In the afterglow of the sorry night
A hero officer is lauded
For responding with all his might
His ultimate sacrifice duly applauded
As many of the bar patrons ran in fear
While smokebombs and bullets sprayed the air
The evil gunmen with his calculated stare
Left the victims without a prayer
In the aftermath sits cratered questions
With depths far reaching as to why
Many innocents lives lost, echo
suggestions
Their indelible voices still cry
For we're resigned to sitting in all normacy
With no foresight on stopping the flow
As another mass shooter festers in dormacy
And this is so sickening to watch it blow
Logan Robertson
11/07/2018
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
There is no dust to settle,
Two days from land and we are not ready,
The whole year to prepare- poppy seed afternoons
6:00p.m. morning drunks to corroborate nightmare memories.
Where are the aches and the sick bending bone-like threads of
This corpse who romances sallow and pallid warlocks.
Interior flesh ministries unveil festering ****** horrors.
To not go out means chain smoking reds inside.
Plaster the monster over my face so I cannot breathe.
Then the unabashed words can take to the road with pitch forks and
Long, drawn-out misunderstanding. I eat salmonella for preference.
Ashes and soot and dirt and history sew its film atop every surface.
This is not what I thought they meant by life on a deserted island.
There is only me and I am still curious to see if I am advantageous.
Finally they do not wont of me. This is the sorcery I have been executing
In poor forms until this precise moment of lascivious loathe.
If you cannot understand this I am serving the greater good. It is worse to
Misunderstand than not know at all. Let your small hands to the sides of My face and your eyelashes rest atop my head. Lips inside hair.
With precision I extract pearls from your saltwater tomb.
I set the peas to our bed.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
I've been to the Garden of Eden
Where the sun and moon share the same sky
Where stars were
precariously placed
The suns rays reflecting off the water
Standing there
I felt secure
Peace overwhelming my body
I stood in a perfect world
A perfect place
I knew where I was
The Garden of Eden
Luscious green grass grew above my feet
The morning dew danced on my shins
All around me, the flowers grew and flourished
Colored in white to depict God's perfect
creation
All noises echoed in perfect harmony
Animals executing perfect melody
Not missing a single beat
With such majesty, the waterfall towered before me
Looking down I saw my inner beauty in the water
I drank
Words cannot describe the water
Uncontrollably I wept
for I drank
of the
living water.
As I knelt before the living water
A haunting thud echoed in my ear
Motionless, I saw the forbidden fruit
I longingly stared at the glossy fruit
As it pierced through my soul
"Eat of the forbidden fruit", hissed the serprent.
"No", I declared, "for it is forbidden by my God!"
"Your God", he scoffed, " He is the tempter, not I!"
Keenly he stared at me, knowing my every weakness
Holding the apple in his grasp, I longed for intelligence.
"Yes, yes, yes", he whispered, "You are mine!"
"NO!", I screamed, "I belong to God!"
Splashing the water in his face
He cringed and screamed
The serpent burned before me
I awoke.
With a sudden realization
The Garden of Eden no longer exists
For it has been abolished
Just as Satan has promised
The Army of the Dead has arisen
to destroy God's
perfect
plan
So now church, where is our victory?
Shall we hide in fear for the days to come?
With our synonomus Christian comforts
And generous lives?
No! We must rise to the battle!
For the Garden of Eden no longer screams!
Rise up Army of life
For you have the eternal power
Stand up against the darkness
For you have
the
marvelous light.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
ceilings see
the better part of me
i envy whats above
the answers are within
fingertips in fall
predict the freeze
in forward thinking
the sign is on the missing door
elements are lost
mind between frequencies
tuning into whiteness
executing blindness
roads of temptation
lead to regret
hallways on the sidelines
where i live alone
placing bets
4 for never, 1 for today
Dec 11, 2009
Dec 11, 2009 at 8:11 PM UTC
Thank You Lord
For Your righteousness
I sing about Your Name
The Lord Most High
I am pregnant with evil
Conceived by trouble
Giving birth to deceit
I have dug a pit
Hollowed it out
I have fallen
Into the hole I dug
My trouble comes back
And my violence falls
On my head
In my failure to repent
God has sharpened His sword
And strung His bow
Made them ready
His deadly weapons have been prepared
His arrows tipped with fire
Let the evil of my wickedness come to its end
Establish my righteousness
He examines my heart and soul
He is a righteous God
My shield is with Him
He saves the purity of my heart
He is a righteous judge
Executing justice daily
In His anger He rises up
Lifting Himself against the fury
Of my soul
Awakening for me
Declaring judgment on me
A mass of people gather around Him
He takes His seat High over it
He judges me
Vindicates me
By my righteousness and integrity
(By my inequity and infidelity)
My God
Because I have done this
There is injustice on my hands
I have done harm
To one at peace with me
I have plundered my adversary
Without cause
My enemies shall pursue me
They shall overtake me
They will trample me
Leaving my honor in the dust
I seek refuge in You
My God
Save me from my pursuers
Rescue me
They tear at me like lions
Ripping me apart
And no one rescues me
Mar 29, 2010
Mar 29, 2010 at 10:11 PM UTC
Lips gently brush
against each other.
Their fresh moist
softness hot, yielding.
Tongues touch, executing
deft tantalising flicks.
A sensuous tease
before delving deeper.
Searching, probing, lips
pressing, passion flaring.
Hearts melting, spirits
soaring, rushing away.
Then suddenly, it's over
More than physical contact.
A more subtle, mental kiss.
Our fingers connect
briefly on parting.
Lingering slightly, and
I speculatively wonder.
Were our minds
in perfect synchronicity?
Or is there truly,
only one mind?
Such uncertainies arise,
with mental kissing.
© Paul Chafer 2014
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 7:36 AM UTC
Enoch, prophet of the Living God,
Enoch, walker with God,
Seven generations from Adam,
Prophesied,
"The Lord,
With thousands of holy ones,
Came executing judgment.
"All unjust and ungodly ones
Whose unjustified castigations
Against God Himself
Have reached His ears
Stand now in judgment."
Their motives are exposed;
Their grumbling arrogance,
Their cavilling fault-finding
No longer hide
Their flattering lies,
Their avaricious lusts.
They are exposed.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
We are not dating
and
I don't like you.
You are one of my friends, and I love you as friend.
I saw your brown eyes in many ways:
when they're blue, I set your mood to red.
Setting fire so we could burn the whole blue horizon.
When they're grey, I laughed a lil bit because your idea of everything.
Listening to our dream and dancing till the day comes.
When they're brown, we went to our own world.
You were the king and i was the queen, ruling our kingdom and executing our sadness.
man, those were the days we looked at each others and said some *********
then, the day came and we took different paths.
soon, I'll see you sit beside me, cheering the moment from our thrones.
As friend.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 7:52 AM UTC
So you are bringing me pain
I tear at my face
Hoping the flesh will mold itself
Into something
better
I look like a zombie tonight.
Im tired of executing this fight.
I thought i could do this 'till i die
Truth is all I wanted to do was chase you.
And in the end the question is what did you even amount to?
I was willing to give up my skinny jeans,
Aviators
And band shirts
In turn for your attention and love
But you took me and made me a fool.
"All in the name of love"
I tried to be what you wanted
But what you wanted was a swimsuit model and a load of ca$h.
Im sorry,
But im not saying sorry to you.
Im apologizing to myself.
I was willing to wash myself away
For a girl.
And it seemed like my body and heart was shot at with an rpg.
But know,
I wish you
A very special
**** you***
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 9:02 PM UTC